


Silence. And Stillness.

by beetle



Category: Original Work
Genre: Family, Gen, Horror, No happy ending implied, Other, gothic horror, malevolence - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:35:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26441320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beetle/pseuds/beetle
Summary: It's gothic horror (my attempt) and micro-fiction. Two hundred words. My summary would likely be longer than the fic itself. Seriously.
Relationships: protagonist & antagonist
Comments: 13
Kudos: 10





	Silence. And Stillness.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [littleleotas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleleotas/gifts).



> Written as part of the micro-fiction workshop in September 2020 Gothic Day of Creation. Two hundred words.

The thudding has returned. Persistent. Maddening.

Rhythmic and repetitive, odious and ominous. It is a new, steady heartbeat of this house. Under stress and strain of fever, perhaps.

New occupants have taken residence. They thud and jog, bounce and laugh, run and chatter.

They are a cancer.

So, too, the previous occupant. But also, elderly and on a shorter trajectory to silence and stillness. With her cessation had come the death of all noise and motion, but for an occasional leaky faucet-drip.

Again, now, the house thuds. _This family beats_. The heart of this house _lives_.

It is a _cancer_.

When the eyes of the cancer close:

The Mother longs for a restorative holiday.

The Father wants fast cars with a succession of beautiful passengers.

The Sister dreams of scholarly accolades earned.

The Brother wishes for adulation and a stage.

The Youngest yearns to be _Only_.

Too, of silence. And of stillness.

It is _nothing_ to touch and influence such a mind. To plant seeds which whisper of sharp knives in icy moonlight and pale, unprotected throats.

Day by day. Year by year. Then . . . one by one.

I have time.

And, _in time_ , I will again have silence. And stillness.

**Author's Note:**

> First gothic-ish horror I've written in a while. And to be honest, that other piece was more cosmic horror than gothic. More H. P. Lovecraft than Shirley Jackson. And there's some Amityville in there, too. But this piece . . . _this house_ . . . _whatever_ walks there, it, too, walks alone.


End file.
